


Crave Your Subjugation

by jasonpetertodd



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bottom Kylo Ren, Dom/reader - Freeform, Dom/sub, F/M, Heavy BDSM, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Pegging, Possessive Kylo Ren, Submissive Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Woman on Top, be prepared, idk dirty sex, sorry lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28766634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasonpetertodd/pseuds/jasonpetertodd
Summary: Submission. The action or fact of accepting or yielding to a superior force or to the will or authority of another person. Most tend to think that submission can be easily given, easily taken. That bending the will of another to serve a personal agenda is effortless, uncomplicated, won with power and intimidation.They are wrong.Submission, real submission, must be willingly given. The disciplined mind is inherently stubborn, independent, persistent in it’s drive to remain autonomous. To unlock itself from the shackles of self governance and voluntarily hand the keys to another is no feat lightly undertaken. And to accept these metaphorical keys, the submission of another, to fully take control of their body and mind, is also no feat lightly undertaken.Fortunately for you, you were very, very good at it.— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —As the star dominatrix of a world renowned dungeon in Canto Bight, you’re forced to take on a new client that challenges everything you know about the relationship between a submissive and their dominatrix.Unbeknownst to you, your new client is none other than Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order.
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren & Reader, Ben Solo/Reader, Ben Solo/You, Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s), Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	Crave Your Subjugation

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING! This new fic will feature an inappropriate and inaccurate dom/sub relationship. I do not condone any of the actions in this fic in real life, nor are they healthy or conducive to a functioning dom/sub dynamic.

Submission. The action or fact of accepting or yielding to a superior force or to the will or authority of another person. Most tend to think that submission can be easily given, easily taken. That bending the will of another to serve a personal agenda is effortless, uncomplicated, won with power and intimidation.

They are wrong. 

Submission, real submission, must be willingly given. The disciplined mind is inherently stubborn, independent, persistent in it’s drive to remain autonomous. To unlock itself from the shackles of self governance and voluntarily hand the keys to another is no feat lightly undertaken. And to accept these metaphorical keys, the submission of another, to fully take control of their body and mind, is also no feat lightly undertaken. 

Fortunately for you, you were very, very good at it. 

Of all the pleasure houses of Canto Bight, yours was renowned for it’s exquisite taste in services. The Jardin d'Eden, named in the language of a distant planet in a distant galaxy, was a pleasure house of the refined sort. She housed women, men, aliens of the night who would offer any service, but only if the price was right. The whore houses of Jakku held no light to the Jardin, and you were one of her most prized flowers: ‘The Thorned Rose’.

As one of the most sought after dominatrixes of the Canto Bight night life, you had a whole host of clientele to choose from. Only the most politically powerful, famous, or rich could benefit from your services, should they even be deemed worthy to receive them. You always hand picked your clients with careful consideration. Nobody could simply buy your services. From the beginning of the submissive process to their prostration on their knees before you, you were in complete control. And you never took anything less.

Until today. 

“You have to understand the position I’ve been put in.” Krea stood abruptly from her desk and fanned her long fingers out in apology, watching as you seethed with anger and paced the length of her office like a trapped feline. “Fifty thousand credits were offered for an evening with you. Fifty. Thousand. Do you not realize the potential that kind of influx has for us?” 

Jolting to a stop, you rounded on the other woman, breast heaving with barely restrained emotion. “I more than understand the implications that kind of income has, though I’m sure it has nothing to do with the thirty percent you gain from my earnings, no?” At this the older woman had the decency to look away, a light blush of embarrassment coloring her high, pale cheek bones. “You of all people know why I hand pick my clients. You understand. You’ve taken away my ability to choose, Krea.”

The plead in your voice does not go unnoticed, and the mistress shook her head wistfully. “It’s out of my hands. I had no choice myself. It was either accept the gracious offer, or suffer great consequences.” 

“Consequences?” You sneer, your voice pitching an octave higher as you took a threatening step forward. “What consequences could you possibly suffer? With the strings I could pull, the favors I could call in, we could remain untouched. Who is this client?” 

Krea’s lilac eyes glass over, almost too subtle for you to catch it. For a moment she looks confused, as if she’s forgotten an important detail about the situation at hand. “I... I don’t... No.” Clarity returns to her eyes, the lines of her face sharpening. “You don’t understand.” Her voice hardens resolutely as she raises herself to her full height. Speaking loudly, though not unkindly, she says, “This is nonnegotiable, and something that will have to be done. You will see this client, and you will see them tonight at 2200.” 

Incredulous, you spare your superior one last poisonous glare before turning on your heel and leaving the room, slamming the door behind you. The silk of your black robe flutters behind you as you stalk the plushly carpeted halls towards your dressing room, the anger in your aura palpable and pulsing. Innocents in your way press their backs against the wall as you pass, casting their eyes downward. Your raging temper is notorious, and the fearful submission in their actions feeds the growing fire burning in your belly. How dare she violate one of the only rules you’ve set in place? She knows what this means to you, to the dynamic you create with your clients. It’s a clear and violent breach of your trust and your carefully crafted process, one that took years of trial and error to erect. It feels as if it’s all been threatened, cracks erupting in the foundation of your precious control. 

Upon reaching your dressing room, you lock yourself away from all other distractions and throw yourself towards your vanity. The betrayal really blooms in your chest then, a deep hurt settling between your lungs and weighing heavily on your heart. Your eyes flick to your reflection in the mirror, features twisting in mild disgust at the sign of weakness manifesting as tears in your eyes. You are not weak. You have never been weak. 

You scoff, finger nails digging into the wood of your dresser and sending delicious trails of pain rolling up your fingers. Men. They always think they inherently deserve your services, that they deserve to serve as your submissive. As if it was their birth right to grovel at your feet. There’s a reason you so carefully select your clientele. And a single, cocky, rich fucking asshole who thinks they can break your rules and buy you out of your morals will not destroy the reputation of yourself you have so delicately built.

Well, if they think they can break your rules, you think it’s only fair that you can break them.

Spine straightening with sudden decisiveness, you roll your shoulders back and crack your neck. The ache in your chest remains, but your anger and pain blooms to fuel new passion. This client, maker rest their soul, is unprepared for what’s to come.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all are excited for this new project I’m undertaking! Please leave any notes or criticism in the comments.


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